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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26456533">Today's Going to be a bad day. We tried our best anyway.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Lunch Club, Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, I Tried, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, no beta we die like men, read as I get older (floor 6) its amazing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:13:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,672</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26456533</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm not very good with summaries so I'll spare y'all the details. This is basically Schlatt having a bad day, that might not end up being that bad after all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jschlatt &amp; The Boys, Kneecaps are a privilege., No Romantic Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Today's Going to be a bad day. We tried our best anyway.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/WreakingHavok/gifts">WreakingHavok</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a fanficion of a fanfiction written by the lovely WreakingHavok. Check it out you heathens! Also this is my first crack at a fanfiction so please be respectful of any grammar/ spelling mistakes I may make. If you have any tips or recommendations for improvements feel free to leave them down bellow. This could be potentially triggering for you so read with caution! I do try to avoid anything graphic since the creators featured in this have specified their dislike for it. If any creator featured in this or WreakingHavok would like me to take this down I would do so happily!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> A fox and a starving boy walk into a bar. They are greeted by the sight of six victors sharing drinks around a table. It is not lost on them that none of their smiles reach their eyes. </em>
</p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Schlatt woke up with a scream. Cold sweat dripping down his back. Body tense, waiting for an attack. Today was going to be a bad day. </p><p> </p><p>He had a nightmare. He was in the arena, being hunted by mutts and his fellow tributes. The mutts were catching up. He tried to run faster… he couldn't outrun them. He can never outrun them. They plague his mind. </p><p> </p><p>He sees them sometimes, hidden in the shadows. Watching him as he moves through his routine. Waiting for him to come a little too close. Their maws snapping at him, warning him. He feels their eyes on him. Even in the light of day he can feel them watching him with their human eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Their eyes made him sick. Human on a twisted body, an amalgamation of misplaced animal parts, their most defining feature <strike> <em> excluding the eyes he can't think about their eyes </em> </strike>the large ram horns placed on their heads. </p><p> </p><p>He remembers their call, a strange thing it was. It never failed to send him running. It sounded like something out of a nightmare, <em> <strike>it still haunts his</strike>, </em> a mixture between a yowling cat, a loud howling wolf, and a screaming goat, all gurgling into its deep growl. </p><p> </p><p>Schlatt shakes himself out of his spiraling thoughts. He needs to get out of bed today. No matter if it's a bad day, he has a stream scheduled and he doesn't want to find out what might happen if he misses it. </p><p> </p><p>He quickly hauls himself out of bed and checks the time on his watch. Good, he thinks to himself, it's only eight, he has plenty of time to figure his shit out before his stream at four. </p><p> </p><p>He makes his way to the kitchen, hoping no one is there. Luck really isn't on his side today. He finds all of the floors other inhabitants awake, chatting, and cooking. He considers for a moment sneaking back to his room and pretending he doesn't exist until four. It's too late though when Travis spots him and calls out for him to join them. The others are looking at him now, it's too late to run.</p><p> </p><p>He's scared. He's scared of what might happen if he leaves, pretend he doesn't hear Travis beckon him over, pretend he doesn't exist until four. So he walks over. To him all these men are currently his enemies and no matter how irrational he knows this thought to be. He listens, he walks careful steps. He plasters on a smirk. He isn't Schlatt right now. Schlatt is a scared little boy. No, right now he's jschlatt, <em> <strike>a survivor</strike>, </em>a victor. </p><p> </p><p>"Hey Schlatt," Travis calls out as he arrives at the island. He takes a seat a little further away from the group, he can't bring himself to come any closer. </p><p> </p><p>Charlie looks up from helping Ted make pancakes. "How did you sleep?" He knows the answer, they all know the answer, he'd be hard pressed to find someone on this floor who hadn't heard him screaming. He decides to settle with a safe response of:</p><p> </p><p>"It was fine." He left no room for arguments, his voice hard and icy, he winced slightly but quickly replaced it with a practiced confident indifference. He wasn't supposed to care about others, he's not Schlatt right now, he can't afford to be Schlatt right now. </p><p> </p><p>Charlie looks down dejectedly. Good, Schlatt thinks to himself. He's keeping them out. They can't come close, can't hurt him, can't see how much he just wants to pretend he doesn't exist for a while. </p><p> </p><p>Ted looks up from the pancakes to glare at him. As he meets Ted's gaze he sees pity flash across Ted's face before he quickly looks down to continue cooking. Rage begins to boil under his skin at that. How dare they pity him. They can't pity him. <em> <strike>They can't know how horrible he feels</strike>. </em>"Hey asshole if you got something to say, say it to my face." </p><p> </p><p>The other boys, barely paying any heed to the exchange, all look up at him cautiously. "Listen Schlatt," Ted begins, "I'm not going to pick a fight with you." A hint of anger begins tinting Ted’s voice, “Just sit down and shut up Schlatt, the pancakes are ready.” </p><p> </p><p>Schlatt freezes in place. He didn’t think this through, he never thinks things through. He doesn’t know what he expected. He picked a fight and he made Ted mad. That's what he wanted right? No, he realises, no its very much not what he wants, they’re angry. Angry people lash out. He’s a prime example of that. He can’t afford to have them lash out at him. He can’t afford to die. </p><p> </p><p>“...latt...Schlatt!” He’s quickly snapped out of his thoughts by Carson calling his name. He looks concerned. Looking at the rest of the boys he can see that they’re concerned as well. “Hey buddy you good?” Carson asked carefully. </p><p> </p><p>“Y-yeah, yeah, no, I’m fine, sorry ‘bout that.” Schlatt sat down with a thump. He put his head in his hands and just sat there until someone slid a plate of pancakes to him. He mumbled a quick “thanks” not looking up to see who slid him the plate. He lowered his hands from his head and picked up his fork to eat. He couldn’t do it, the smell of food nauseated him, reminded him of how privileged he is now. How he betrayed his district and left them to starve all while he was ‘living it up’ in the capitol. Some life this is turning out to be, he pushed his plate away. “Sorry guys I’m not very hungry,” he mumbled, “I’m going to my room. Maybe I’ll see you guys at lunch or something.” </p><p> </p><p>He was cautious as he retreated, always making sure they all stayed within his line of sight. He knew that if they actually wanted to hurt him he would stand no chance. They were, after all, six victors and he was just one survivor. As soon as he’s out of their sight he books it to his room. He knows he’s making a racket, that he’s probably disturbing them. He can’t bring himself to care, he’s almost there, almost to his room. He slips on something and lands with a loud thud. He hears someone call out, “hey Schlatt you ok?” Followed by a few sets of footsteps coming in his direction. He struggles to his feet and runs faster. </p><p> </p><p>He soon makes it to his room, quickly slamming the door and locking it. He slides down the door and curls in on himself. He’s exhausted. He crawls over to his makeshift blanket nest and passes out. He’s going to pretend he doesn’t exist for a while.  </p><p> </p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t have any nightmares this time. He doesn’t know if it's better that way. He doesn’t feel rested. It feels like he blinked and suddenly there's loud banging on his door. He scrambled out of bed and rushed to his door quickly unlocking it before opening it a sliver. “What do you want?” His voice was hoarse with sleep, it hurt to speak. </p><p> </p><p>“Your stream is in 10 minutes,” Travis replied softly. Schlatt really didn’t want to stream. He hates that this is his life now. </p><p> </p><p>“Thanks Travis. I’m sorry about earlier,” he really was. He felt horrible about causing a scene, he’s scared of what they might do to him. “I’m going to go set up, I’ll see you later.” He probably wouldn’t see Travis later but no one needed to know that. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, see you Schlatt,” Travis is looking at him sadly. He can’t deal with making Travis sad so he closes the door. Right before the door fully closes he swears he can hear Travis mutter a small “sorry.” under his breath. Schlatt ignores it. </p><p> </p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>His stream has been going good. Well as good as any stream on one of his bad days has gone. He gets the usual comments in chat, mostly people asking him to do ‘funny mic’ and commenting on jokes he makes. He also gets an abundance of chats asking him if he’s feeling alright and others telling him to take better care of himself. He ignores all of them unless they’re donations. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t stream for as long as usual, he can’t find it in him to keep up his persona for that long. At the hour and a half mark he calls it quits and signs off apologizing to the audience for the short stream. He sets down his headset and leans back in his chair grateful for the moment of reprieve. </p><p> </p><p>His moment is short lived. He hears it, the howl that haunts his dreams. He panics. He grabs the nearest sharp thing he can find, it’s a pen sitting on his desk. He resolves himself to hide in his room, but he thinks again when he remembers that other people live here too. He can’t do that to them, they haven’t seen what these things can do to people. They hadn’t witnessed other tributes be just a second too slow and have it cost them their life. </p><p> </p><p>He heard it again, louder this time. It was coming from the common room. He needed to kill it before it killed him. He wasn’t in the victors tower anymore, he wasn’t on floor six, he was in the arena and it's kill or be killed. He unlocked the door to his room and quietly crept towards the common room. He considered stopping by the kitchen to grab something sharper but there was no time. He didn’t know how many would already be dead by the time he got there. </p><p> </p><p>He had just arrived at the entrance to the common room when he heard it again. He sprung up from his crouched position to see how many there are, they always travel in packs after all. He barely even registers himself move when he spots it. He definitely doesn’t register that it is just on the tv. He rushes in pen at the ready and stabs it straight through the eye. He doesn’t stop there, he keeps stabbing until it disappears from view. </p><p> </p><p>“Schlatt what the fuck man!?” Cooper shouts he looks scared, looking around all the boys look scared. They should be, more are coming. They always hunt in packs after all. </p><p> </p><p>“You guys gotta hide, there's more coming. They never hunt alone.” He jumps up prepared to force them away if need be. He feels someone come up behind him. He whips around prepared to defend himself but Noah just puts his hands up in a placating gesture. He hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t with the rest. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey buddy, where are you right now?” Noah asks calmly. How Noah can remain calm while being hunted is beyond him. Schlatt knows where he is. He’s in the arena even though in the back of his mind he knows he’s really not. </p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck are you talking about dude you know exactly where we are.” Noah’s gaze is piercing, like he’s looking through him instead of at him. This is taking too long. They’re running out of time. “Listen we really gotta find someplace to hide. The mutts are coming and I don’t want any more blood on my hands.” Noah's face has saddened slightly, that seems to be happening a lot today. </p><p> </p><p>“Schlatt whatever you think you’re seeing, it's not real. You’re on floor 6 in the common room there weren’t any mutts, it was just a clip on the tv Schlatt. It was just on the tv.” He couldn’t comprehend what Noah was telling him, he didn’t want to believe that he freaked out over nothing. “C’mon Schlatt,” Noah coaxed, “open your eyes. Take a look around.” When did he close his eyes? </p><p> </p><p>He opens his eyes after what feels like hours, but was probably less than a minute. He takes a look around and finds that Noah’s right, all he finds is a bunch of worried looking faces and a broken tv. Schlatt is mortified, how could he not realise it was just a recording. That it wasn’t real. </p><p> </p><p>He books it to his room. A cursory glance behind him reveals that most of the floors other inhabitants are chasing after him. They call out to him, ask him to stop running, they ask him to talk to them about it. He’s too embarrassed to stop but he knows they don’t follow him past the kitchen. </p><p> </p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>He hides in his room for hours in the comfort of his blanket nest. He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he hears a knock at his door. He ignores it. “Hey Schlatt,” it's Charlie. What does he want? To make fun of him? Have him be the butt of one of his jokes? “I just came to tell you that we’re making tacos. I know that you don’t want to taco-bout what happened earlier and that's perfectly fine with us. No one will mention anything. Just… please come eat with us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you promise not to talk about it?” Schlatt’s voice is barely above a whisper but Charlie hears it loud and clear. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah I promise, we already talked beforehand and this has happened to us all enough times that we’ve developed some sort of routine around it.” Schlatt doesn’t fully trust him but he hadn’t eaten since the day prior and he was really feeling the hunger. He internally curses himself for growing so compliant. </p><p> </p><p>“Ok.” Schlatt opens the door and walks with Charlie to the kitchen. Upon arriving they find Ted and Travis making tacos while the rest sit at the counter and talk amongst themselves. Charlie clears his throat and announces their presence when they arrive. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey Schlatt!” Ted looks up from his cooking. This is unusual, Schlatt thinks to himself. </p><p> </p><p>“Hi.” He murmurs back. That earns him a smile from most of the kitchen's occupants. He tries to give them a small smile back. It feels more like a grimace. He sits at the table and tries to pay attention to the conversation being had. He mostly responds by nodding. Nothing more than the occasional sentence. </p><p> </p><p>“Tacos ready.” Schlatt looks up to see Travis handing him a plate with a taco on it. He thanks Travis and Ted before digging in. They’re a little burnt, but they’re still delicious. His favorite food he has tried since arriving on floor six has been tacos. He feels like crying. Nothing will ever fix the shitty horrible day he’s had but at least it’s not all bad. </p><p>After they all finished eating Carson approached him. “Hey Schlatt we’re all going out to the balcony to watch the sunset, wanna come with?” There's something pleading in Carsons gaze, something that's begging him to agree. Begging him to let them in. He’s not ready to let them in yet. He may never be. But he is at least ready to start. </p><p> </p><p>He makes his way with Carson over to the balcony. As they approach he finds all the other boys already squeezed on it, packed together like sardines. Somehow, they still find a way to make room for the two of them. They sit there silently for a while just staring up at the sky. When the sun is almost fully set, leaving only dustings of oranges, pinks, and purples on a dark blue canvas, he speaks up. “Thank you guys.” </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t receive a response from them. He doesn’t think he needs one. For the first time that day, maybe the first time since the games themselves, he finds himself with a genuine smile on his face. </p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>
  <em> A fox leaves a bar, alone. He does not look back to witness the starving boy become a victor. </em>
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